Okay, so on to a few more disgusting stories.
When I was in high school, I used to have terrible ingrown toenails. They didn't hurt too much, but they'd get all swollen and red. I never bothered with going to the doctor, I'd take care of digging out the nail myself, but I forgot to take care of it before heading to Florida on an extended field trip one year. So here I am, waiting in line for a ride at Epcot Center with mesh shoes, and someone in line next to me stepped on my foot. It hurt for a second, but it took me a while to notice the giant red spot spreading across the toe of my shoes. When we got back to the hotel, it looked like they stepped just hard enough to rupture the infection, my sock was ruined with pus and blood where it looked like the infected side of the toenail had exploded, and I didn't have any way to clean it up properly. The rest of the trip I just spent changing band-aids, but I had a half dozen socks I had to throw away because I wasn't about to try to clean that all out. Ew.
More recently, I spent several months in a remote part of the country with a few family members. We were on a very limited diet, and now I can successfully say I've farted my dad out of a cabin. I very nearly made myself sick from the smell, but if we left the cabin, we had to be armed due to the wildlife, and there were definitely wolves and bears around. I'm never going on an all-fish diet again.
The last one for now comes from my sister and me together. Growing up dad took us fishing enough that we don't have any problems dealing with dead fish. But due to a very long story, she and I were each asked to gut a fish. Well, dad was usually the person who did that in our family, so she went at it first. She made this fish's mouth open and close and have a conversation with her while she did it, apologizing for what she was doing to him. It was pretty rough, but she got it done. My fish, on the other hand, would NOT cooperate. I ended up ripping the head off with my hands so I didn't have the knife slip out of my hands and cut MYSELF open, and then once I had the belly opened I gutted it with my fingers as well, instead of using what they had given me. I wasn't familiar with any of the tools they'd laid out and it was just easier digging around, knowing I could wash my hands afterwards. The best part? While I was doing all of it, I was singing and dancing around like Smeagol. Everyone else was cracking up at how sis and I were acting. We may have a bit of a reputation for being ridiculous...